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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25748530">in you, i saw the heavens</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberteas/pseuds/liberteas'>liberteas</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberteas/pseuds/uncivil'>uncivil (liberteas)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>BSD Pacific Rim AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pacific Rim (Movies), 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Blow Jobs, Drama, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One-Sided Attraction, Pacific Rim AU, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:34:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,259</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25748530</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberteas/pseuds/liberteas, https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberteas/pseuds/uncivil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pacific Rim AU. Ever since losing his sister Kyouka to the kaiju, Atsushi's been training to be a Jaeger pilot to avenge her death. Unfortunately, he accidentally falls in love with someone he can never hope to possess: Dazai Osamu, world-famous Jaeger pilot, and the other half of Double Black, Yokohama's guardian deity.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akutagawa Ryuunosuke &amp; Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu/Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai/Atsushi is endgame, mentioned Akutagawa/Dazai, mentioned past Dazai/Chuuya, mentioned past Oda/Dazai, platonic sskk, unrequited Akutagawa crushing on Dazai</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>BSD Pacific Rim AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910974</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>121</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I haven't seen anyone write a Pacific Rim AU for dazatsu, so in pure desperation I had to feed myself with my own two hands.</p><p>Also if you haven’t watched the Pacific Rim movie before, here’s a crash course: Humanity is dying as giant monsters called kaiju emerge from the depths of the Pacific Ocean. Our last hope are the Jaegers, giant mechanised robots that have to be piloted by two people under a mind-link called the “drift” to support the mental strain of controlling the Jaeger to fight the giant kaiju.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em> <span class="s1">Ours is a quieter worship, more commiseration than awe.</span></em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em> <span class="s1">— Religion, by Alvin Pang</span> </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Atsushi spends his eighteenth birthday like this: he goes about his day as usual, trains in the dojo, puts in some hours into the simulator, eats in his usual corner of the canteen, hits a punching bag some more after dinner and goes to bed physically exhausted and painfully aware of his solitude. He drifts off into the blissful land of sleep, alone, but thinking of his mentor. </span> <span class="s1">Only in his dreams is he allowed to touch him, because in reality the only thing he exchanges with Dazai is the fleeting little glance of want he tosses across the room. Dazai doesn’t know who he is. Atsushi is just one out of the several dozen new faces they’ve taken in this year, and Atsushi definitely isn’t one of the brightest or most talented amongst his cohort.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">So he’s pretty certain that Dazai will never notice the little blush that always creeps up Atsushi’s neck and face whenever Dazai happens to be a guest speaker for the day's morale boost, up on the podium talking about battle strategies or drift theory or whatever. Atsushi thinks that nobody will ever notice. As an orphan, he’d been starved of love ever since the day he was born, so he has no unrealistic expectations of having his love returned. <em>You cannot miss what you’ve never had before in the first place. </em></span> <span class="s1">Atsushi is a simple boy with simple wants. He just wants to become a pilot, and earn the right to stand beside Dazai as an equal. That’s all. He has no dreams of grandeur or fame. He just wants a reason to stay alive. Maybe if he saves the world, he’ll deserve to live.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It therefore comes as a surprise when months later, Dazai singles him out at lunchbreak, coming over to sit at his lonely little table at the very fringes of the canteen.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey,” says Dazai with a quirk of his lips. “So you’re Atsushi-kun.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“G-good afternoon, Dazai-san,” Atsushi barely recovers from his shock before he stammers out a quick and clumsy greeting. He glances around at the canteen at large — there’s quite a few curious faces looking in their direction, and he shrinks even further into himself, making himself smaller, wanting to disappear from their sight. “Ummm, not to be rude, but am I needed for a task? I don’t see any other reason why you’d be here otherwise…”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, it’s nothing pressing,” laughs Dazai, a sound that tickles something in Atsushi’s chest. “But HQ has deemed you a person of interest — after all, your drift compatibility stats are off the charts. I don’t think there’s anyone in this Shatterdome who you couldn’t force a drift with, if the need for it arose.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Well, he’s got a point there. Atsushi likes to think of himself as adaptable. He’s sensitive; he anticipates others’ needs before they were even aware of it, and fulfils them without being asked. He likes to make his presence unnoticeable, subtly shifting and changing himself to adapt to others’ preferences, biting back his own retorts and objections in favour of keeping the peace. He never insists on being the leader. Rather, he’s content to be led, and that’s alright. Not everyone has to be born at the top of the pack. In practice drifts working together with fellow trainees he had always done well, at least better than his solo simulator scores, which were average at best.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You flatter me too much, Dazai-san,” Atsushi says carefully, moving to rest his hands around his cup, just to find something to do. “It’s nothing praiseworthy.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dazai smiles at him across the table. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t say that about yourself. I’ve been watching you, you know. You’re not only cute, you’re also good at what you do.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Don’t tease me with your attention, Dazai-san, </em>Atsushi thinks. <em>I never once thought I had a real chance with you, and even if that came to be, soon I’ll disappoint you, with my weak and timid self. And then you’ll get bored of me and leave, and I’ll feel ten thousand times emptier than before. </em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In the drift, you’re very good at handling aggression,” Dazai continues. “You work around it, mould yourself to withstand it. But even though you seem to give and give and give, you know when to stop giving and start resisting. You let them have their little concessions, but when it matters, you refuse to be consumed by the other. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You might not be aware of it yourself, but deep down you know where the boundary lies between the part of you that you can give up willingly to be trampled and abused, and the part of you that stands firm and refuses to give in. When push comes to shove, you can hold still even amidst someone else’s incessant rage. And that’s what gives you such a high range of drift compatibility.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he just shakes his head and stares down at his half-finished lunch on the tray. It’s regular fare, plain white rice, greasy seared salmon, pickled vegetables and miso soup that’s already lukewarm.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dazai sighs, patting him on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on, chin up. That was a compliment!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi looks up at him, embarrassed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please don’t have overly high expectations of me, Dazai-san. I’m trying my best, but sometimes I don’t think my best is enough, you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It will be enough,” assures Dazai. “That mindset will do you no good if you are to be working alongside me. I chose you for this task, and I believe that you will deliver. And my predictions always come true, so trust me, even if you don’t trust yourself.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s the task you want me to do?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Meet me at the dojo after you finish your lunch. There’s someone else I would like you to meet.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The someone else turns out to be Akutagawa Ryuunosuke. Atsushi had heard of him, of course, the one who’s been topping the charts at the trainees’ drift simulator rankings, next in line for the new Jaeger fresh off the manufacturing belt. He’d been trying to find a co-pilot for ages, but his acerbic and brash personality had put off most of the contenders. They both eye each other with an air of hesitation and contempt, but under Dazai’s insistence they try a test-drift. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If Atsushi had ever doubted that this could work, all his expectations were wiped anew when he initiated the neural handshake and settled in place in the strange shared space of their minds. Dazai was right, they could come to understand each other very well — Atsushi barely flinches as memories, flickering nearly too fast to be perceptible, flash before his eyes. An orphanage, just like him. Beatings. A younger sister, Gin, long black hair, gap-toothed smile. Kaiju sirens wailing. Then Gin’s dead body, just like Kyouka. Fire, explosions. Pure terror. The grief comes later. Then the determination and the vengefulness. Marvelling at the Shatterdome’s splendour for the first time. Tenuous hope. Tea with too much sugar in it. And training, just hours and hours upon hours of non-stop training with a sole goal in mind. It’s almost <em>too</em> similar to his own childhood and adolescence. And then, the biggest shock of all, a memory so eerily similar to his own that Atsushi could have mistaken it for his own.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dazai, at the atrium podium, talking about drift theory and Double Black. Chuuya is standing beside him, but the redhead barely registers in Akutagawa’s field of view. It’s as if there was nothing else in Akutagawa’s world but Dazai, in his slim-cut suit and his tousled hair. The longing in the memory is so acute that Atsushi’s almost brought to tears. So Atsushi is not the only one who <em>wants</em>. So they are not only rivals in training, but also in love.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite that, they don’t need words to feel their grudging mutual respect for each other, for how far they've both come from their dirty muddy roots. You did not necessarily need to <em>like</em> someone to work seamlessly with them, as the original Double Black had shown years ago. So Atsushi lets Akutagawa take the reins of the drift as he smoothes over the uneven ridges of their mind-link connection and seals it once and for all — and then they’re truly together, thinking as one, sharing every single thought as organically as if it were their own. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>There will be no one who will know you as well as I do. There is also no one who will understand your pain all like I do. I </em> <b> <em>know</em> </b> <em> you now. There is no shame to being a degenerate bitter soul scarred by the world, wrecked with self-loathing and hubris in equal measure, clinging onto a capricious dream to save the world and redeem yourself. I understand.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They blink, and understanding passes between them like lightning.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Together, they bring the Jaeger’s fist up to slam into the palm of its other hand, and the control room erupts in cheers.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re very beautiful, Atsushi-kun,” says Dazai conversationally, in the quiet of the rooftop. “Has anyone ever told you that?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi shakes his head. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is that what you say to Nakahara-san too?” Atsushi whispers. It’s no secret to anyone in this Shatterdome that Dazai and Chuuya had been a thing, that they had been almost like conjoined twins at some point, moving as if they were one body <em>even</em> outside of the drift.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” responds Dazai smoothly. <em>Liar, </em>thinks Atsushi. <em>He must have said it to him at least once. </em>Even before Atsushi had ever seen him in person, Dazai’s reputation had preceded him. Back then, Double Black had been the talk of the entire Shatterdome. Everyone knew they were together, and to be honest no one actually knew what they were now. To this day, it was not uncommon to see Dazai walking down the corridors from the direction of Chuuya’s quarters, or Chuuya loitering around Dazai’s rooms. Atsushi doesn’t want to ask about it, knowing that Dazai always says a twisted version of the truth.</span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Atsushi forgives Dazai for the lies anyway, and Dazai must have known that he would be forgiven. Though Atsushi knows he’s far too lenient with Dazai, he wonders what his supposed bottom line is. If he was supposed to have a backbone like Dazai said during their first meeting, when would Dazai finally tread too far and cross the line? Atsushi suspects it is never. He suspects that Dazai had been wrong about him: for Atsushi, Dazai is an exception. He doesn’t quite think of him as a saint who could do no wrong, but more like a beloved puppy — you indulged it, let it make messes of your home, but not once would you raise a hand to chide it for its misbehaviour.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dazai leans in close and tucks a strand of Atsushi’s hair behind his ear, so close that Atsushi can see each of the individual lashes framing his doe-like eyes, long and sensual and pretty.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I?” Dazai asks, his lips hovering a mere inch away from Atsushi’s.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” Atsushi breathes — what a joke, how could he even refuse? <em>Sorry,</em> he whispers to Akutagawa, who might see this later, in a future drift. <em>I’m so sorry. But you of all people would understand.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To Dazai, he thinks, <em>Yes, I’m all yours — you can take all of me, and eat my heart. Take it and do whatever you like to it. I won’t stop you. I can’t stop you. I like you too much to care.</em></span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Even if your heart belongs to someone else.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait,” pants Atsushi one day after training in the dojo, where Dazai came to find him in his dorm room. They had started out innocuously sitting side by side, enjoying each other’s company as Dazai reads funding and battle plans and Atsushi runs through the list of manoeuvres he’d learnt that day on his tablet. Then, suddenly, Dazai had put aside his things, and his hands had crept closer to Atsushi’s legs, sliding to touch the inside of his thigh teasingly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>I want you to look at me only, </em>Atsushi thinks, but doesn't say. <em>I want to be your one and only</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dazai doesn’t promise him that. It’s not in Dazai’s nature to say something like that, and even if he did it’d just be a fanciful lie.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Perhaps it says something about Atsushi’s trusting nature that he just nods and takes Dazai at face value all the time. He’d offered a meek protest at Dazai’s insistent hand on his hip, mutters something about Chuuya-san, but when Dazai whispers the affirmation that <em>it's alright,</em> <em>I'm no longer seeing that slug anymore,</em> Atsushi pushes aside his guilt far too easily and lets his body be complicit in this stolen embrace. The niggling voice inside him is telling him, <em>be selfish for once — you deserve it. You’ve always been so good to everyone, you’ve suffered for so long — you deserve to have something good at least once…</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi isn’t totally innocent, isn’t stupid like most people think he is. He’s not a pure little bun who knows nothing of evil. He’s rotten inside too, he just hides it deep inside his layers and layer of insecurity and self-doubt and humility, does everything by the book so that nobody could poke fault at him for being bad. Blending in — that had been the first rule of survival in the orphanage. Sticking out meant that the bullies could find a new excuse to land their punches and unleash their harsh words upon him that stung like whiplashes. To protect himself, he’d developed the good sense to always be respectfully polite, to maintain that careful distance between himself and others, shy away from attention like a critter hiding from sunlight.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He knows he’s playing a game with fire here with Dazai. He’s not sure if he should believe Dazai when he says he honestly has nothing to do with Chuuya anymore. Dazai might be lying just to get into his pants, but Atsushi finds himself inclined to believe him, just this once.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He tilts his head back for an open-mouthed kiss from Dazai, so painfully tender it leaves him breathless with feeling. Dazai’s an incredibly good kisser, doing things with his tongue that has Atsushi scrambling to respond with the same enthusiasm, slinging an arm around Dazai’s neck and clutching him tight.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dazai’s body is warm, and solid, and comforting, and it’s all Atsushi’s ever wanted in his life. He’s not as good as Dazai at hand jobs or blow jobs, but he makes it all up with earnest effort and a desperate eagerness to please. He wraps his mouth around Dazai’s throbbing cock, tongues at the slit, licks a slippery wet path down the underside of his cock to the base, mouths his balls gently and carefully, trying his best to make him feel good. Dazai seems to like it, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through Atsushi’s hair slowly, and sighs his name like a prayer when he reaches his climax. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dazai reciprocates the favour too, has Atsushi sit on his face as he licks at the secret place between his legs, then takes him into his mouth with a practised ease as Atsushi cries out at the delicious wet heat enveloping him, Dazai’s every movement helping him climb the peak of his pleasure slowly but surely. Dazai’s good at working smarter, not harder, using his hands to pump the base of Atsushi’s cock as he focuses his attention on the tip, hollowing his cheeks, swirls his tongue around him the way he likes it, slow and torturous and unrelenting, until Atsushi spills into his mouth with a choked cry. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi had heard Dazai talk about Double Black only once, and even then it had only been a brief mention as fleeting as a butterfly’s touch.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why did you break up with Nakahara-san?” Atsushi asked Dazai one day, the desire to satiate his curiosity winning over his usual strictly imposed self-censorship. It’s not really that nice to ask about your lover’s past, but he’s got his finger in the pie already at this point. “I would have thought you were two peas in a pod, never to be apart.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you remember that day when Yosano-san asked you to help her carry her supplies for her? When you walked beside her, it was a bother, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, yes. I had so many bags around my elbows, they kept bumping against both our legs and sides. So I ended up walking a few paces behind her.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s what happened with me and Chuuya, you know. We both carried too many burdens, and we walked too close together. That’s it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s more to it than just that, but Atsushi could see that Dazai didn’t want to talk about it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He could see it too, a perpetually angry Chuuya who’s mad at his co-pilot who never seems to take his job seriously, but unable to find fault in him when he orchestrates their Double Black missions so well, a ticking bomb in their arguments that never went off until Oda died, and then the guilt had eaten both of them up. Chuuya couldn’t comfort Dazai because he was being consumed by his own fair share of pain and self-flagellation, and <em>both of them</em> wanted someone to comfort them and tell them that everything was okay. But neither of them were mature enough, and struck out at each other in the places where they knew would hurt the most. And by the time they had matured, they had already grown too far apart, were too separated by the hurt, that they no longer wanted anything to do with each other again. But the line between love and hate was precariously thin.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi doesn’t want to doubt Dazai. But he can’t really help the welling of jealousy in his chest as he averts his gaze to his lap, picking at his cuticles like he always did when he was nervous. Dazai sees his expression, warring between hurt and apprehension, reads the self-doubt written in between the lines, and reaches out to soothe him. He takes Atsushi’s hand in his, brushing the warm pad of his thumb across the back of Atsushi’s hand as he speaks.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“One icy winter day, several hedgehogs huddled together for warmth. Because they were covered with sharp spines, they pricked and hurt each other with their proximity, so they could not help but move away from each other. Despite that, the bitter cold forced them together again, and the same thing repeated over and over again, until they finally understood: they could not be too close together, yet not be too far apart that they could not share each other’s warmth. They had to keep a certain aloofness that was just right, no more and no less. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“To be too close was mutual torture, but to be separated was torture too. So they hovered at a comfortable distance, kept each other at arm’s length, close enough that they knew the comfort of each other’s company, but not so close that they were pained by each other.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You see, Atsushi-kun, our jagged edges were too sharp, and we walked too close together, so we kept bumping and knocking each other with our baggage and our sharp elbows. We breathed the same air, inhabited the same spaces, thought the same thoughts, and it was our ruin.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But you and me, I don’t think we’ll be like that,” says Dazai, his eyes soft. “I think we’d hold out for quite a while. At least, if the kaiju doesn’t get us first.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you, Dazai-san,” Atsushi says quietly. He doesn’t specify what he’s thanking Dazai for, but some things were understood between them even without the bond of a drift. And there are some relationships that even a drift can’t fix. Dazai would know.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I care for you a lot, Dazai-san. I think you already know that, but I’ll say it again, and again, and again, until you get bored of me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I would never get bored of you,” says Dazai. “Even if I’m not a good man, just believe me this once.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If I have time I might write a sequel to this. I originally planned a mid-length 7-10k three-parter for this AU, but I wanted to get this out asap, and I wasn't even sure if people were going to read this lmao... especially since i put in some past history for Dazai, and i know some people don't like that kind of thing. comments welcome, they help me write! Also please have a good day and stay safe!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dazai and Atsushi rethink what they mean to each other.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They have a round of practice drifts with the other team members, just to ensure that there could be experienced backup teams of pilots if any one of them died. It made no strategic sense to have the fate of humanity quite literally resting on four people's shoulders, that if anyone wanted to sabotage a Jaeger, you just needed to take out one of its pilots. So the higher-ups had devised the idea of backup teams, where they were thrown into new combinations to test out their compatibility with other pilots and trainees, so that if any of them got decommissioned, then there’d still be experienced teams of pilots ready to serve the next wave of kaiju.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That’s how the cat gets out of the bag. Atsushi gets partnered up with Nakahara once, and in the drift, sifting through Nakahara’s memories, he understands immediately that Chuuya is not the man he should fear. Atsushi sees Dazai, younger, smiling in a way he’d never seen before, arms slung around an older red-haired man with a stubbly chin, and he <em>knows. </em>This is the man, whose shadow Dazai sees in him. Chuuya is a formidable foe of course, but now he knows: Dazai had never loved him in the way he loved Oda, pure and unconditional and beautiful.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Later, alone, Atsushi revisits the memory again and again. The beloved is always fortunate; the unrequited lover is always wretched in his fruitless pining. In the memory Oda smiles with the air of someone who had always loved and been loved back, and the young man in his arms is testament to that. To the victor go the spoils, Atsushi muses, it’s true. Fortunate people rarely are aware of their privilege, but luckless people like Atsushi are always painfully conscious of the chasm that separates him from the blessed ones who’ve already won even before the race’s begun.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oda Sakunosuke. His prototype, his original. Yes, Dazai loves Atsushi, it’s true, but it’s only by osmosis. Dazai loved Oda, and so his love diffuses from Oda to Atsushi, the gentleness and affection he shows Atsushi but a bitter mockery of what its true form should be. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi is only a stand-in, a replacement, a surrogate for Dazai’s lost love. He’s the hastily-applied suture for the gaping hole in Dazai’s bleeding heart. He’s the second choice — but no, that’s not entirely accurate, no — he had never been a “choice”. Dazai hadn’t <em>chosen</em> him. He had had the option taken away from him by cruel fate. Who would have imagined that one man’s death would kill two souls.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That’s his fate, he supposes. Always just good enough to be second-place, but never in first. He had been in the group of trainees destined always to be the understudies, the so-called <em>spare tires</em>. They’d never stop being trainees unless the <em>actual</em> pilots died in battle. If Akutagawa hadn’t rejected every other partner he’d had to work with, Atsushi would never have earned his place as a pilot. He’s like a cuckoo, waiting to usurp someone else’s place and claim it as his.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A child of circumstance, he’d been content to let himself be pushed and battered about by the unpredictable current of life like a sole boat bobbing in its fervent flow. He had never come first in anything in his life, and he’s complacent enough that he can’t find it in himself to mind. Until now.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi knows, when Dazai looks at him, tells him that he loves him with such a deceptive sincerity, he’s not saying it to <em>Atsushi</em>. He’s looking at Oda, whose ghost he sees in Atsushi’s kind spirit. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So this is pain, thinks Atsushi. No matter. Atsushi would creep into his heart, quietly and unnoticed, so that Dazai could become his. He would slink into the uncharted territory of his heart, and conquer it slowly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’d do what Chuuya couldn’t do with his sharp edges and piercing tongue. He’d seep through the cracks of Dazai’s cold facade with his soft and unassuming touch, wear him down like water weathering down the sharp keen edges of rocks to rounded polished pebbles, until at last Dazai would find himself conquered by this lonely little boy. He would carve out a place for himself in Dazai’s frozen heart by pure persistence. This is Dazai’s weakness: he’s unmoved by force, but yields readily to gentler forms of persuasion, even if he doesn’t notice that about himself.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Atsushi’s fluid like water, so he’ll slip between the cracks and disarm him, leaving Dazai helpless in the face of his all-encompassing tenderness. This is Atsushi’s secret siege of Dazai’s impenetrable walls, and he’ll succeed where others have failed by the virtue of his deceptively soft nature, hiding an iron-like soul within.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This is how Atsushi spends his twentieth birthday, curled around a liar of a man. Atsushi knows he doesn’t love him enough, but the man beside him is blissfully unaware of the fact that Atsushi has discovered his secret. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nothing has changed since his last birthday, only that now there is the false heat of a man beside him that mocks the fire in Atsushi’s heart.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rome wasn’t built in one day, and Dazai’s tall walls would not fall in one day either. Atsushi had learnt the art of siegecraft and warfare from the best, after all.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next kaiju attack that strikes Yokohama is serious enough that it warrants them deploying two Jaegers, <em>Arahabaki</em> and <em>Rashoumon. </em>It’s a terribly close fight, one that leaves one side of <em>Arahabaki</em> in tatters and sends Dazai in the hospital for a week, forcing them to call in reinforcements from the American base. The new Jaeger that joins them is piloted by a man named Lovecraft and his partner Steinbeck, but they’re not Atsushi’s main concern.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi’s main concern is, of course, Dazai. It’s not just a physical injury. Half of his body is paralysed from blinding pain, the residual effects of the mind-link when his half of Jaeger had been torn open like a Pringles packet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi visits him nearly every day, sitting next to his bed, peeling little rabbits out of red apples onto his plate. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s this?” Dazai had asked at first, when Atsushi presented the cut pieces of apple to him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s a rabbit. The red peel of the apple are the ears, and the apple piece itself is the body.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh,” Dazai had sighed thoughtfully. “I’ve never had anyone peel and cut apples for me like this. My mother never cared enough to make me those picture-perfect bentos.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They don’t talk about Dazai’s close shave past the gates of hell, or the all-too-real possibility that either of them could be dead by the next mission. Atsushi had brought it up once, and only once.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wish you would be more careful,” Atsushi had blurted. “If not for yourself, do it for me.” Dazai’s expression had softened, almost imperceptibly, but Atsushi was a master at reading the minute twitches of Dazai’s face now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It didn’t occur to me you would care about me that much,” Dazai had said with a quirk of the lips, trying to maintain the thin farce of lighthearted humour. “Nobody really does, anymore.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It would kill me if you left me alone, Dazai-san,” Atsushi had said, completely serious. Dazai had blinked at him, as if not quite comprehending his words, but Atsushi knew the message had been received, loud and clear. So he never mentioned it again. Now he only sits with Dazai, and peels his little rabbits for him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll peel another one for you, if you like?” Atsushi asks, but even before the reply comes he’s already reaching for another red-bellied fruit.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai says, scratching at the edges of the new bandages wrapped round his face and head. “I appreciate it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi smiles, the blade of the knife in his hands glinting in the sunlight shining from the window.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anything for you, Dazai-san.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Within weeks, Dazai is discharged from the medical ward, but Atsushi still goes to his room and shows him the clever little things his hands create. Sometimes it’s origami, sometimes it’s little pressed flowers plucked from the fields behind the Shatterdome base, but always, it is pretty.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dazai always smiles when he gets them, and smiles even wider when Atsushi leans in, tilting his head up in that specific angle that meant, <em>I want a kiss.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course Dazai grants his unspoken requests, slotting their lips together, his tongue sneaking slyly into Atsushi’s mouth.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi doesn’t want to play the game with Dazai. He wants to become a constant of Dazai’s life, little by little, stuffing the cold empty parts of him full with his own particular brand of kindness. Perhaps Dazai might not realise it now, but every companionable silence he spends with Atsushi is another small step in the grand plan of infiltrating into his heart.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sometimes Atsushi imagines that Dazai looks at him like he wants to confess something, but he never does. It’s alright. Rome wasn’t built in a day.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It comes unexpectedly, then, when after a mission, the coppery stench of blue kaiju blood still strong on their skin, Dazai suggests that they go to the little hill behind the Shatterdome to watch the stars.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Together they cast their eyes heavenward, at the glittering dots of light above. Neither of them knows how to locate, much less identify the constellations, but the galaxy is always something awe-inspiring and peaceful to look at. The night wind ruffles their hair, deliciously cool on their skin, and Atsushi imagines he can see the stars reflected in the dark cherries of Dazai’s eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The night sky is beautiful, isn’t it?” Atsushi muses to himself.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not as beautiful as you,” Dazai says, reaching across the grassy space between them to grab Atsushi’s hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The silence lingers between them, but it’s comfortable, not oppressive, and after what seems like hours Dazai finally speaks again.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I used to have a friend,” says Dazai slowly, his eyes unfocused, staring at the fathomless skies above. “He meant everything to me. Or, at least, I used to think he was everything to me. I thought that my heart only had enough space for one.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then?” Atsushi hums encouragingly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But then, you walked into my life,” Dazai says, not looking at Atsushi. “And you changed everything.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi knows how much this admission must have cost him, doesn’t urge him to continue even though his heart desperately wants to.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re not a replacement,” Dazai utters, so softly Atsushi almost doesn’t catch it. “You never were.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atsushi doesn’t reply, just clutches Dazai’s hand tighter in his.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The stars twinkle, a silent witness to their secret midnight tryst.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This will be something unpolluted, something that only belongs to them. The memories in the drift are just that: memories. It’s all long behind them now. It doesn’t matter if humanity’s gonna perish the next day or the week after that, or if the entire Yokohama base is lost and falls to the kaiju. That’s not important. What’s important is the <em>here and now,</em> and right here, right now, they’re hopelessly in love with each other, lying under a brilliant jewel-studded tapestry of dancing light.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that’s enough.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>again. i still have like 600 words of this AU sitting in my drafts with even *more* dazai/oda/chuuya previous history that i want to elaborate on more. lol. but that's for another fic, another time. </p><p>i hope you liked this. consider leaving me a kudos/comment if you did! it doesn't really do anything much in terms of saving the world and ending global warming but it does motivate me to write i guess??</p><p>i shout into the void about bsd here:<br/>tumblr @libertea <a href="https://libertea.tumblr.com/">here</a><br/>twitter @_liberteas <a href="https://twitter.com/_liberteas">here</a></p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi guys an update @ 13 Sep is that i've written a prequel for this fic!!</p><p>it's organised in the same series (bsd pacrim aus)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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